Stained Glass
by Aquaria Identity 07
Summary: When Erron Black is ordered by Kotal Kahn to kill Cage's team of Earthrealm warriors, he is surprised when all but one perishes - the one whom he wanted dead out of all of them. What surprises the mercenary even more, however, is that he decides to let Kung Jin live and takes him back to Outworld to heal him ... Loosely-based on Erron Black's arcade ending. Rated T for now.
1. And Four To Go

**Stained Glass  
**

 **Summary** : When Erron Black is ordered by Kotal Kahn to kill Cage's team of Earthrealm warriors, he is surprised when all but one perishes - the one whom he wanted dead out of all of them. What surprises the mercenary even more, however, is that he decides to let Kung Jin live and takes him back to Outworld to heal him ... Loosely-based on Erron Black's arcade ending. Rated T for now.

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own Mortal Kombat X or any of its characters; all of this belongs to Ed Boon, John Tobias and Netherrealm Studios. I only own the plot.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: And Four To Go  
**

 _One for the money … two for the show … three to get ready … and four to go …_

It was a hackneyed mantra that had stuck with him since God alone knows when … possibly when he stopped believing in God.

 _Who am I to believe in a being who doesn't do anything for us?_

 _If He can't even save someone from the receiving end of a gun barrel, then why should I care enough to have faith in Him?_

 _Faith_. A funny word that barely ever entered Erron Black's thoughts. Hardly a word that flitted off his tongue, either. No, the mercenary had other thoughts in mind, far too important to take a backseat to his personal mullings.

 _I have orders to uphold._

 _Four little menaces to eliminate …_

With a low whistle as he loaded the chambers of his twin metallic-gold guns, Erron mentally repeated the sixteen-word introit, like a church congregation singing its age-old antiphon when the priest approached the altar for the giving of the false Lord's son's body and blood.

 _There_ _ **will**_ _be bodies and blood for the vultures after I'm done._

 _One for the money … two for the show … three to get ready … and four to go …_

* * *

He slithered closer on the tarmac, smirking behind his mask at the sheer luck he was given. The sun bore down from the blue heavens on the former Earthrealmer's back like a hostile eye, concentrating its scathing glare on him, but Erron did not give a damn at that moment.

 _They're not carrying arms._

Indeed, his azure-blue orbs were not deceiving him as he watched the four figures make their way to the opening of the grounded aircraft. The two girls walked ahead, discussing some trivial matter - the blonde-haired sergeant bore not her guns but expensive black aviators on her pretty face, whilst the other was without her gauntlets, showing off her toned, cocoa-butter forearms.

Next to follow was that whipping boy; though his gait suggested a lax attitude, the mere fact that he was wearing his full-body armour in this infernal heat suggested that he was prepared for anything. Still, wouldn't _he_ be surprised if knew that the specialised bullets in the gun-slinger's possession would be able to penetrate through the covering.

 _If all else fails, go for the head. Blow off his foolishness in one second._

And finally, not far behind, was the raven-haired Shaolin monk, an unreadable expression gracing his features. Erron found himself gritting his teeth at the mere sight of him, despite the fact that the other did not carry his dragon-headed staff nor his quiver full of arrows, which would have delighted the Outworld cowboy immensely.

Instead, as his eyes honed in on the younger man, taking in every immaculate detail that seemed to mock him from afar, Erron felt overcome by a dark bitterness as a certain memory flooded his mind like water:

 _Our fight at the Kove …_

 _I was too slow to shoot him. I had him …_

… _and I let him get away._

Growling under his breath, Erron shook his head of the memory, narrowing his black-shaded eyes in a vexed glare as he watched the Shaolin monk saunter along, the rosy-pink lips clearly curled into a carefree grin as he passed by the gun-slinger's hiding place next to the crates.

The smile _had_ to go.

 _ **Everyone**_ _has to go … especially_ you _, Junior._

Erron's fingers, grasping the handles of his guns, twitched in anticipation.

" _There will be no mercy for those who have not shown mercy to others" … let me be the judge, the guns my jury and the bullets my sentence …_

 _Let's go._

* * *

" _Augh!_ "

The sergeant's back bent as she flew backwards, a gush of crimson springing forth from her midriff. She had raised her arm as she fell; whether to protect her chest or her dolled-up face, Erron would never know, but the movement was all but futile as the actor's only daughter - Cage's _everything_ \- hit the ground, slowly but surely succumbing to her wounds. Her aviators were thrown off to show the life in her eyes slipping away.

 _One for the money …_

Briggs went down hard, the wound in her side throwing her off balance as the bullet exited out the back. She flew face-first onto the lowered platform of the aircraft, a sickly-red puddle forming underneath her body. One gauntlet-free arm was stained red, whilst the other hung limply over the side of the platform. Two fine arms, they were, that had shown strength, yet in that moment they showed that their owner was no longer breathing.

 _Two for the show …_

The whipping boy had whirled around when he first heard the shots fired, raising his arms at his sides to unleash his weaponry. But in all honesty, Erron mused, it provided the gun-slinger with easy spots to shoot. Narrowing his eyes in concentration, he unloaded a volley of gun-fire upon the young Shirai Ryu: three bullets managed to penetrate the front of his armour, unleashing gussets of scarlet rain, and one bullet went for the eyes, masking the man's face in a thick red layer. His mouth was contorted into an "o"-shape, as if to convey his total surprise as he, too, went down.

 _Three to get ready …_

As for the Shaolin monk …

… Erron Black had gunned him down last. A simple shot to the center of his exposed chest, the ivory-white teeth and ruby-red bead necklaces providing a perfect target - _the_ perfect bulls-eye.

 _But not quite perfect enough_.

Keeping his guns clasped tightly in his hands, Erron moved forward, the brim of his hat not quite obscuring his vision. He passed an eye over the boy and the Briggs girl's limp bodies, satisfied that they were down for the count. He lifted his head over onto the platform where the unmoving sergeant lay, certainly beyond saving at this point.

And then he stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening before contracting once more out of piqued displeasure.

 _You're_ kidding _me right now._

The Shaolin monk lay splayed out on his back, his arms and legs bent at several angles. Blood poured out of his chest, seeping into the material of his vest and undergarments, and the surrounding skin was stained a florid colour. His eyes were closed, and gone was the grin from his lips, now tainted with ichor.

 _Yet his bloody mouth was slightly parted, emitting short, strained bursts of breath, and his chest slowly rose and fell_.

Erron tilted his head, regarding the supposedly fallen bowman with a frown behind his mask.

 _Still alive, Junior? What gives?_

 _Doesn't matter. Let's put you out of your misery …_

With that, Erron raised his revolver, aiming for the center of the forehead that was no longer protected by that golden headpiece. Cocking the piece of weaponry, the gun-slinger leaned downwards, applying pressure on the trigger …

 _What the -?_

… though he was stopped short when the kid's eyes flew open and met his.

And, if he was not mistaken, he saw sparks of defiance dancing in those dark-brown orbs. Sparks that had danced there before when the man was last at his mercy …

 _The Kove. Our fight._

 _He stared at me the same way …_

He had never forgotten that look.

Once again, Erron's head canted to the side, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared back at the raven-haired Shaolin monk who seemed to barely cling to life.

And yet the look he was giving the former Earthrealmer was one that indicated something very clear: _I'm damn well alive._

Never forgotten at all.

This time around, however, it did not last long.

Erron watched as the younger man's eyes shut tight, though he was surprised that he was still puffing for air, albeit weakly. His chest was rising up and down at a faster pace now. The blood was streaming at a rapid pace from the wound.

 _He's starting to succumb._

But something in the mercenary's core stirred when a low, pained whine was heard, passing out of the parted mouth of the bowman. It was almost animalistic in nature, akin to a coyote pup suffering something fierce with a broken limb.

 _No mercy for the merciless._

 _Is that your verdict?_

That is when Erron Black decided that he had enough.

 _Damn it!_ _ **Damn it!**_

Growling under his breath ( _damn it_ being grumbled repeatedly), the mercenary angrily holstered his guns before going down onto his knees, not caring in the slightest if his knee-pads got blood on them. Then, with all the strength he could muster, he placed his tanned arms under the Shaolin monk's form - one under his back, the other under the back of his knees - before, with a grunt, lifting him up.

Erron staggered onto his haunches, balancing himself precariously as his hands dug into the other man's clothing, before slowly beginning to stand up straight. The kid's raven-haired head lolled back, a whimper escaping.

"Shut up, Junior," hissed Erron.

"Bla … ac … ck …" The bowman's voice was a gurgle.

"Don't say a damn word," the gun-slinger barked, feeling the blood staining his front. "Not another word from you."

 _He's losing too much blood. He's losing consciousness._

 _Start making tracks, Black._

Turning on his heels with the monk carried in his arms bridal-style, Erron Black began to walk away, not even deigning to look back at the carnage he caused … at the three of the four kombatants he was ordered to kill.

 _One for the money … two for the show … three to get ready …_

Now, he was heading for Outworld with the Earthrealmer he had spared from the receiving end of a gun barrel.

… _and four to go._

* * *

 **A/N** : A story idea that had been floating for a few weeks, and then I thought to myself last night, "Okey-dokey, let's write this and break some hearts". :) I was going to publish my E/J "Russian Roulette" first, but that'll come soon, I promise!

Hope you enjoyed this first chapter - it was a bit challenging and heart-wrenching to write (I love the Kombat Kids, bless their hearts), but it was still fun. We'll see what happens in the next chapter. Poor Jin (and damn raccoon-face). T_T This story is also cross-posted on Tumblr as well.

Reviews are welcome!

*~AI07~* :)


	2. The Outworld Samaritan

**Stained Glass**

 **Chapter 2: The Outworld Samaritan  
**

 _The scent of jasmine permeated the air, sweet and strong. It hung over him, but it did not prove bothersome._

 _No, not when she wore it._

 _In fact, he savoured the scent, along with the warmth that her body gave off. Her fingers, slightly calloused yet warm, curled around his much smaller ones, guiding it over one of the many small, nearly faded black words on the dusty page._

" _Read that word for me," she said, resting her chin on the top of his head; the jasmine scent wafted every time she moved._

 _Shifting in her lap, he squinted at the word, moving his lips soundlessly as he quietly read out the four syllables to himself._

 _Finally, with as much confidence that a little boy could muster, he said aloud: "_ Samaritan _."_

" _Good, darling," her honeyed timbre praised. "Now read the whole line for me."_

 _He narrowed his eyes in concentration, taking in each word – each syllable – of the complicated-looking sentence. His brothers would be able to read it easily. They would be able to make sense of its deeper meaning. Why did she have to make him do this?_

" _Darling, c'mon …" she coaxed. "You can do it."_

 _Soothed by her words, he took a deep breath and read, albeit slowly:_

"… a Samaritan, as he travelled, came where the man was and, when he saw him, he took pity on him. _"_

" _That's it," she said, pressing a kiss to his sandy-blonde strands. "He was a good Samaritan who helped that poor fella out of the kindness of his heart. Patched him up, took him to an inn and paid the innkeeper for extra costs and all."_

 _He nodded. He dared not pipe up and tell her that the doddery padre had already told him the story. Instead, he just listened, breathing in the fragrant scent, wanting her to keep talking._

 _She did. "Your granddaddy always used to complain 'bout there being no good folks left in the world. But lemme tell you, darling, he was a walking pile of misery, that man. With him around, the good Lord knows it was no wonder that he didn't cross paths with good folk."_

 _He felt his eyes beginning to droop. Fatigue was fast overcoming him, but he wanted to hear her speak some more._

" _As it says in this blessed book here," she murmured, tapping the pages, "_ _"_ there will be no mercy for those who have not shown mercy to others _". Now don't let that slip from your mind, boy. You'll get a cuffin' and then some if you go against the good Lord's words."_

" _Mm," he mumbled, trying to hold down a yawn._

 _But she was not fooled. Taking the text away from his hands, she then lifted him off her lap. She leaned down to kiss his forehead, her hair brushing against his skin and the intoxicating aroma surrounding him, and she said, "Get into bed, darling, otherwise you won't be able to wake up early tomorrow morning."_

" _Tell me a story," he asked-cum-whined. He_ had _to stay awake, to spend more time with her before she went off … even though she wore that jasmine scent, which he now remembered that he hated more than anything in the world. A foul, disgustingly-sweet odour that made his stomach drop whenever she put it on._

 _Because when she did, it meant she was ready to leave …_

" _Go to sleep, darling. Don't wait up for me."_

* * *

The Shaolin monk's hair smelled faintly of jasmine.

The scent pierced through the cloud of copper that had surrounded both his wounded form and Erron Black as the gun-slinger emerged from the portal into Outworld. The front of his leather vest was stained with the man's blood, giving off a metallic odour. It was only when his charge's head lolled back again with a whimper that the flowery aroma made its presence known. Erron felt a pang of discomfort within his chest as he inhaled the smell. His kohl-painted eyes widened.

 _Jasmine? Is that jasmine? When last did I smell that?_

As if to answer his question, the faded image of a woman's face appeared in his mind …

 _No, Black. Don't think of her, that … that hussy. She doesn't deserve a second of your thoughts, nor your mercy …_

 _Yet the kid deserves yours?_ questioned another voice inwardly. _After what_ you _did to him? After everything you put him through in the past? Why didn't you just shoot him? You had a chance, like so many others, so why didn't you?_

 _Why didn't I …?_

"Ughnnn …"

The second whimper drew Erron out of his thoughts. He looked down at the monk, whose face was fast turning a deathly white colour. The dark-brown eyes flickered incessantly, although it was clear that they were losing the fight to stay open. Emitting a sound that was a mixture between a furious growl and a desperate sigh, Erron spoke.

"Junior, don't try to say anything yet," he said in a low tone as he began to pick up the pace; the portal had opened right at the foot of the palace entrance, but there was a scattering of civilians walking around, going about their business. The gun-slinger knew that he had to hurry before anyone could see them and alert the authorities.

 _Or worse … one of the palace guards would inform the emperor …_

Erron started up the stairs, murmuring, "But you have to stay awake. You _got_ to stay awake throughout. You hear me? Hey, Junior – Kung Jin, _d'you hear me_?"

Whether it was the use of the kid's proper name or the urgent tone of the mercenary's voice that managed to elicit a response from the bowman, one could not say, but the third whimper issuing past his tainted lips offered Erron a little relief, albeit emphasis on the word "little".

"Just hold on," he whispered, nearing the top of the stairs.

He needed to get him to the healer. Although Erron had enough experience to deal with gunshot wounds, he much preferred the expertise of a professional to relieve the Shaolin monk's pain. If not for the fact that he had hurriedly taken him away from a bloody scene, of which he was the cause, and if not for his currently frazzled state of mind, the former Earthrealmer would have sorted out the wound himself.

 _But the only thing I can do is try and keep him awake. Keep him talking, when he's become more able._

 _He ain't dying on me just yet …_

The jasmine scent was all too vile.

Reaching the top of the stairs with a puff, Erron staggered forward, thinking of a way to get the Earthrealmer to the healing chambers without being seen by the inhabitants of the palace …

 _Oh, hell no._

… but it was apparent that today was _definitely_ not his day.

Stopping in his step, Erron could not help but tighten his grip on the bowman's body when he saw three figures emerge from the depths of the palace. Two of them were soldiers, dressed in the guise of Osh-Tekk warriors. They hardly posed a threat: they, like their virtually identical comrades, were merely lambs to the slaughter, as far as Erron was concerned.

However, it was the third person walking with them that made the mercenary feel cold.

Sandwiched between them, walking at a more slow yet firm pace, was a thin figure. He was dressed in red and black, a hood over his head which partially covered a green amulet-like jewel on his forehead. His face was covered with scant bandaging, and his skin was light-brown and creased, as if it were in the throes of rotting: to be blunt, he was literally a dead man walking. From that decomposing visage glowed bright green eyes, which were slightly narrowed as they honed in on Erron and the person in his arms. A frown was also playing on his thin lips.

"Black," he said, stopping a few centimeters away from the Outworld cowboy, the soldiers doing the same. His voice was gravelly, deep and resonant as if he were speaking on behalf of a thousand men, if not more. Confusion was evident in his timbre.

"Ermac, now's not the time," said Erron, trying to keep his own voice steady and low.

Ermac's eyes narrowed further.

"We were informed by a guardsman at the watch-tower that a portal had opened up at the palace anterior with two bloodied individuals exiting from it," he rumbled. "They were seen to be making their way inside the palace perimeter with a seemingly sinister intent."

The construct paused, casting a glance at the Shaolin monk who was breathing wispy breaths. "We did not expect to find it was _you_ , Black. And with one of the Thunder God's emissaries, too …"

"I'll explain later," Erron replied, "but right now I need to get the kid to the healing chambers."

He made a move to go forward, but a raised, gloved hand from Ermac and the unsheathing of two swords made him stop.

"Black, we need an explanation," the ghostly figure intoned. "Why have you brought the Earthrealmer to Outworld?"

"Get out of my way," Erron growled, his voice rising.

"This cannot go unexplained, mercenary," responded Ermac. "We shall ask you again: why have you brought the Earthrealmer in his current state to Outworld?"

"And _I_ said get out of my way!" Erron exclaimed before using his shoulder to push his comrade.

Ermac stumbled to the side, allowing the gun-slinger to stride forward. The soldiers made a move to attack, but they hesitated when he shot a cold, hard look in their directions. They could only stare at him through their masks – most likely with scared expressions etched on their countenances – as he began to leave them in his wake.

 _There's no time to waste._

 _Junior doesn't have any more time …_

As he entered the palace, making his hurried way down the corridor that would lead him to the healing chambers, Erron noticed that the Shaolin monk's eyes were closed so he lightly shook him.

"Junior, hey," he muttered gently. "Hey. Don't go to sleep on me now. Stay awake."

"Mmm," the younger man moaned, his closed eyes shutting tighter. To his carrier's alarm, a fresh rivulet of blood bubbled over his bottom lip, running down his chin.

 _Damn it!_ "Hang on, kid, we're nearly at the healer's. Hold on."

"Erron Black!"

Erron cursed inwardly as he recognised Ermac's voice calling from behind him. There was a flurry of footsteps – as flurried as it could be for the construct, given his normally slow gait brought on by personal suffering – and he knew that Ermac was now right behind him.

"This cannot be overlooked," he said over the mercenary's shoulder, a tinge of – _what was it?_ – anxiety in his tone. "You have brought the Earthrealmer to the palace, no doubt without the emperor's permission."

"To hell with the emperor!" Erron barked. "And go on with _you_ while I'm at it!"

"The Shaolin monk is dying."

A statement, rather than a question, but it did nothing to soothe Erron's nerves.

"Keep trying to stop me, ghosty, and he _will_ die," he hissed.

The blood on his vest ran down onto his black pants, soaking the material …

"Did you do this to him?"

"Save the inquisition for later, will you?" Erron shot back.

The blood on his knee-pads dripped onto the fabric of his pant-legs …

"Why be foolish enough to bring him here when you could have killed him?"

… yet even the copper odour, strong though it was, could not contend with the power of the jasmine scent.

And it was the latter which worried Erron Black the most.

 _Go to sleep, darling._

 _Don't wait up for me._

"Bla …"

The uttering caught both Erron and Ermac's attention.

The Shaolin monk's bloodied mouth parted for the fifth time, and yet another crimson outpouring made its way over his chin, dripping down his neck and collar-bones. His hand, swinging limply, clenched involuntarily.

Erron swore aloud, which took Ermac aback. The soul collective knew that the former Earthrealmer could be volatile, but never was he one to emit outbursts such as he did now. It was not like him to get this upset – at least, not in his or their comrades' presence. In comparison to, say, Reptile or Ferra/Torr, Erron Black was level-headed and quiet – obstinate, yes, but not prone to fits of emotional effusions.

Ermac watched as the gun-slinger began to say to the Earthrealmer in hushed tones laced with panic, "No, _no_ , not now, Junior. Just keep quiet for once in your life and stay awake. You _have_ to be awake."

The man's limp hand, the construct noticed, rose slowly, as if to reach out to touch his bearer, but the movement proved futile as it flopped back down again.

"What spell does he cast on you?" Ermac whispered.

That utterance did not escape Erron's hearing. Behind his mask, he felt an uncomfortable heat blooming across his cheeks. His mouth opened to say something, but it quickly closed again. Normally when he felt like this, he would reach for his guns, steadying his fingers on the triggers or on the handles. This action soothed him, but in this case, all he could do was dig his fingers deeper into the Shaolin monk's clothing. He gazed down at the pale face contorted in agony.

 _Why, Black? Why didn't you kill him? You're only prolonging the inevitable, aren't you?_

 _He will die. You promised the Kahn that he and his friends would be eliminated. He could have died much quicker, but now …_ **now** _he will suffer for your actions._

 _Mercy is too good for you …_

"Black," Ermac murmured.

Erron looked up and stopped in his tracks. There in front of him was the door leading to the healing chambers. His heart beating with a sense of relief, he looked over his shoulder at Ermac.

"Open it," he said flatly.

Ermac's orbs narrowed. The gun-slinger half-expected his comrade to refuse, to intone that he would not tolerate his behaviour for the sake of the Shaolin monk's condition. Instead, Erron watched as Ermac silently raised his right hand. A faint green aura surrounded it, and it glowed brighter as he clenched it into a fist; when Erron turned back, he saw that the doorknob was encased in a swirl of green energy. With a small twist as the construct jerked his wrist, the door clicked opened.

Erron looked back at Ermac, who lowered his hand with a frown on his face.

"Thanks, ghosty," he muttered.

"The emperor must be made aware of your transgressions, Black," Ermac said simply and unemotionally.

The former Earthrealmer did not deign to reply to that. Instead, he hurried into the chambers with his charge and, without looking back at the dead man's face, kicked the door shut with his leg.

 _Transgressions … several letters long of "sins" …_

 _She would have said so …_

"Anyone in here?" Erron called out, dismayed to hear that his voice sounded horribly vexed.

Without waiting for an answer, the mercenary carried the Shaolin monk to the nearest bed and gently laid him down. The younger man groaned, his chest rising and falling too rapidly. Erron feared a spinal injury being aggravated, but he could not tell if there was one in the first place. Shortness of breath and the blood running from his mouth suggested that a lung was damaged.

 _Where the hell is the healer?!_

Removing his hat and throwing it swiftly to goodness knows where, Erron placed his fingers on the side of the bowman's neck. The skin was cold and clammy, and the pulse beat weakly beneath his fingertips.

 _He's already lost a lot of blood. Dunno how he's still alive because that bullet was meant to kill him._

 _Tough little s***, aren't you, Junior?_

Erron heard the _skeet-skeet!_ of footsteps, and he looked up to see the palace healer hurrying towards him.

"I heard you calling, Mr Black, and came as quickly as I could," he said.

His eyes fell on the bleeding form. "Is this someone who requires medical attention?"

"I think the gaping hole in his chest kind of speaks for itself," Erron barked. Mentally telling himself to calm down lest he said or did something he would regret, he continued in a steady manner:

"Bullet went in through the chest. No sign of an exit wound. Might be a sucking chest wound with the lung possibly being damaged. Start getting his vest and undergarments off, I got to do something first."

He grabbed the knife that had been dangling next to his sand grenades that hung off his belt and practically threw the weapon into the stunned healer's hands. Nevertheless, he regained his senses and began to do what he was told, using the blade to cut the straps that secured the armour plate to the younger man's left arm.

Meanwhile, Erron ran to the door. Seeing the key in the hole, he turned to lock it. The mercenary knew that a mere locked door would not keep his compatriots away for long, but it would buy him and the healer time. That, and it gave Erron a sense of security.

 _We can't be interrupted._

 _Kotal Kahn will have my head._

Erron made his way back towards the bed, where the healer was beginning to cut through the bloody vest held by a metal ring. Once the fabric was cut, the ring no longer holding the garments, the Outworld cowboy reached out and teared the garment off the monk's body. The left side of his chest was exposed, red where the blood had painted it.

The healer cut through the remaining half of the vest, and Erron promptly teared that off as well. His whole upper body was now exposed, the fair skin cloaked in a light coat of crimson. The bullet wound could be seen in its entirety. Blood steadily poured out of it, a vermilion river. Then, Erron took hold of the kid's head and lifted it, allowing the healer to remove the bead and teeth necklaces: cutting them, especially the bead necklace, would be a messy affair and cause problems if cut wrong.

 _And he'd kick my ass if I broke 'em._

"You're gonna be fine, Junior," he whispered, gently laying the kid's head down on the pillow; the jasmine aroma wafted as he made the movement. "You hear me – you'll be fine."

And then, without thinking about it, Erron pressed his thumbs against his freckled cheeks, rubbing them softly. The healer watched the display silently, not deigning to speak even when he passed him a cloth to wipe the man's bloody mouth clean.

"Does the emperor know about this?" he asked quietly.

Erron looked up at the healer with burning, azure-blue eyes, his mask no doubt hiding a scowl.

"The kid's _my_ responsibility," he replied sharply. "He's not the emperor's concern."

"I see," the other man murmured.

Gathering a roll of bandages from off a tray next to the bed, Erron watched with his narrowed, painted orbs as the healer cut off a large square piece and, using the palm of his hand, pressed the bandage against the wound, applying pressure to stem the blood-flow.

The Shaolin monk's eyes flickered open, and an unholy wail passed his lips, nearly making Erron and the older man jump out of their skins. It sounded akin to an animal being flayed alive if that were possible. His hands flailed, clenching and unclenching as the pain seared through his body.

" _Aunnngh!_ " he hollered. " _Heeughh!_ "

"Keep that bandage on him," Erron ordered firmly before turning his attention to the patient, whose hazy dark-brown eyes held pain and fear.

 _Those eyes, so unlike their fiery appearance in the encounter at the Kove …_

They were not going to be open for long, nor hold any semblance of consciousness. The latter, Erron could not afford to let that happen.

"Stay with me, Jin," he soothed, taking hold of one of his hands, grimacing as those slender fingers dug into his skin with fierce intensity. "Ten more minutes. You can take it. Just ten, I promise you. Stay with me."

"Mmmgh …"

A single tear ran down the kid's cheek. His grip loosened somewhat, but his fingers curled around the bigger fingers of the mercenary with a softer touch. "Bla … ack …"

"Keep your eyes on me, and don't try and fall asleep," Erron hummed, brushing the tear away with his other slightly calloused thumb. "I'll keep talking to you so long as you stay awake."

The former Earthrealmer was unsure that the kid could hear him, but he must have registered the message just as well through his touches, for his eyes fluttered upwards and met his.

"Bl … ac … no … _nooo_ …"

He turned his face away, his eyes scrunching closed once more. To Erron's alarm, fresh tears ran down his cheeks. They came down strong as he tried to pull his hand back, to no avail.

"He's bleeding much faster now," the healer piped up, quickly cutting another bandage strip to place over the old one. "He's working himself up and it isn't doing him any favours."

"Junior, calm down," said Erron, trying his best to keep his tone low and soothing. "You're hurting yourself. You're in safe hands, don't worry."

He rubbed the monk's knuckles with his thumb. "We're not going to hurt you."

"Nooo … _nooo_ ," the Earthrealmer whimpered, shaking his head. The jasmine scent showered upon Erron with every shake. "Stuh … _stop_ …"

The fingers began to go limp …

"Damn it, no," Erron seethed, his heart dropping as the shakes began to slow and suddenly cease. "No, no, stay awake … talk to me …"

 _Don't wait up for me …_

"C'mon, kid, answer me. Don't go to sleep now. Jin, c'mon."

… _otherwise you won't be able to wake up early tomorrow morning._

 ** _BANG-BANG! BANG-BANG!_**

"Erron Black! Open up the door immediately!"

Both Erron and the healer looked up when they heard the deep, powerful rumble on the other side of the door. They shared an uneasy glance.

"Mr Black -" the healer started.

"Don't you dare take your hand off that wound," Erron cut him off lowly, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Don't you _dare_."

 ** _BANG-BANG! BANG-BANG!_**

Each knock was like a gunshot.

"Erron Black," Kotal Kahn, the Outworld emperor and the gun-slinger's employer, called out again. "I demand to be let in at once! Open the door before it is smashed in! Elder Gods curse you, _OPEN IT_ **NOW** _!_ "

The Shaolin monk's hand slipped out of the Outworld cowboy's, still and cold.

* * *

 **A/N** : **Guest** \- I hope this chapter answered your question. Hopefully I'll keep going at a faster pace, but we'll see. :)

 **Jackie** \- Thanks, hun, glad you found the first chapter to your liking - I hope you found this one alright, too! :D It'll get better in the next chapter ... maybe ...

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, faved and followed this story, you're all fantabulous! :D And my apologies for updating this story so late, my workload had been hellish, particularly in the last week. T_T But writing this chapter was a great relief (at the expense of my poor Shaolin baby, but still). Whatever I couldn't fit in here will be in the next chapter. Poor Jin ...

Reviews are welcome!

*~AI07~* :)


	3. 30 Pieces Of Silver

**Stained Glass  
**

 **Chapter 3: 30 Pieces Of Silver  
**

"Oh no …"

The moment he felt the Shaolin monk's hand slip from his own, Erron Black's heart took a nosedive into the pit of his stomach. Turning his attention away from the vexed-looking healer, and trying in vain to block out both the banging on the door and Kotal Kahn's blood-curdling yells, the gun-slinger looked down at the tear-stained face of the unconscious Earthrealmer, wearing a distressed expression beneath his leather-studded mask.

 _You can't be dead. Not now!_

His eyes wandered up the kid's chest, on which the healer kept his hand along with the bloodied bandages. Although it was difficult to tell, it was without a doubt that his chest rose and fell with each short breath that he (somehow) managed to inhale and exhale. But just to make sure, Erron placed his fingers once more on the side of the bowman's neck. As sure as anything, a pulse was still there. Faint and irregular, yes, but damn well still there.

 _Alive. He's alive._

 _I swear to God, if he dies on me now …_

But the God he no longer believed in was the least of his troubles.

On the other side of the door, the banging had suddenly ceased, as well as the shouting. But the silence that followed lasted for only a few seconds – there was an undecipherable yet curt yell, a moment's pause, and then –

 _ **CRASH!**_

Erron, again nearly jumping out of his skin, looked up in time to see the door crashing open, which was nearly thrown off its hinges due to the force exerted by the massive figure who had now lumbered into the room. He was a large brute, muscular and rough-skinned. The scant armour that adorned his body was mostly made up of spiked plates and secured with ropes. Tied to his face was a frayed red cloth, and, from his covered visage, only one of his eyes were visible thanks to a hole in the material. The eye itself was also blood-red, void of any shine or emotion whatsoever. It merely fixed itself on his comrade and the monk lying prostrate on the bed.

" _Growff_ ," the brute rumbled as he recognised the bowman, his eye flashing.

"Stay back, Torr," Erron warned, moving in front of the kid. His right hand wandered down to his holster, resting it atop his gun. "Move one inch and I'll blow your eye out."

"You no boss of we, Bang-bang!" cried a high-pitched voice.

What looked like a young girl appeared, her head popping up right next to that of Torr's and her hands resting atop of his shoulders. She, too, was outfitted in spike-plated armour, albeit it was secured with leather straps instead of ropes. Upon her hands she wore clawed gauntlets – no doubt lethal in this girl's use, as Erron had witnessed many times. Her small body seemed to be balanced on Torr's back. She reminded the former Earthrealmer of those birds who perched themselves on the backs of cows and ate the bugs off of them. From under her iron helmet, her auburn eyes crackled in glee.

"No shoot-shoot for you," Ferra cooed. "Big Bossy mad for trouble _you_ make!"

Torr growled as if to agree with his partner before shifting to his right, allowing Erron to see past them.

Almost immediately, his stomach twisted into a tight knot.

 _Jesus …_

A tall man entered the threshold. Power radiated from his muscular frame, but his obvious ire carried him into the healing chambers with the fervour of a man who was hell-bent on getting answers because his status demanded it. Blue war-paint covered every inch of his naturally olive-coloured skin, and his upper body was tattooed with designs that nobody but he and his kinsmen could explain the meaning of. He wore the guise of his people, but his stature, let alone his eagle-headed headdress, distinguished him from the average Osh-Tekk.

Kotal Kahn was not just the emperor – and not just Erron Black's employer.

To the empire over which he ruled, he was a god.

 _An idol._

 _False? Can't say._

Following in Kotal Kahn's step was the aptly named Reptile, a lizard-like humanoid fitted out in black clothing and a vest made almost entirely out of bone. He wore a two-piece mask that did little to hide the furious, scandalised expression on his scaly face. Next to him floated Ermac who stared blankly ahead at the gun-slinger; neither guilt nor satisfaction from informing the emperor and his entourage of his comrade's "transgressions" could be seen.

But Erron could care less about the construct at this moment. His attention was fixed on Kotal Kahn, who had stopped and stood beside Ferra/Torr to survey the scene before him. His luminescent blue eyes – normally benevolent and thoughtful – now held a raging fire that Erron had seen only once in his life.

 _After Junior and his friends escaped from the Kove_ …

… _when we told him of_ **her** _betrayal._

 _She never had to see it …_

"What," said the Osh-Tekk emperor, "is the meaning of this?"

His voice echoed around the chambers like thunder in a storm. His enforcers were still as stone as they gazed upon their comrade, although they made an effort not to flinch upon hearing their leader's booming question. It even made the healer look up from his patient; his face, already etched with worry, paled considerably at the sight of the Kahn, but still he kept a trembling hand on the Shaolin monk's chest.

Erron said nothing. His response was to stare back at Kotal Kahn in silence.

His employer clearly did not appreciate the lack of an answer. His fists clenched at his sides, and the fire in his eyes grew bigger, _hotter_.

"Erron, _what is the meaning of_ _this_?" the great being repeated, his voice akin to an earthquake. "Why is the Shaolin Earthrealmer in my palace?"

Again, Erron said nothing.

 _Don't give in. Stand your ground …_

The lone sound that broke the silence was the shallow breathing from the bed behind him.

It was only when the Kahn made a move towards the bed that Erron reacted fast.

A flash of gold, and the emperor stopped in his step as the barrel of the mercenary's gun was aimed straight at him.

"Stay where you are," he muttered dangerously. "Don't come near him."

Kotal Kahn's face was full of astonishment and surprise, but ever so slowly it contorted into an expression of absolute rage. Narrowing his eyes and scowling, he growled:

"You would dare to shoot me?"

"Don't tempt me," replied Erron, his fingers ready to pull the trigger.

Behind him, the Osh-Tekk's enforcers' gazes turned into gapes at the gun-slinger's gall: Reptile issued a low hiss, his body hunching over slightly as he assumed a fighting stance; Ermac's hands glowed faintly; Ferra looked ready to fall off Torr's back out of shock, but she held onto his shoulders tightly, raising her gauntlets bit by bit in Erron's direction whilst Torr growled under his breath.

 _Five on one doesn't sound like I've got a good chance._

 _Then again, I've got a bullet for every last one of them._

 _But would you be able to_ kill _them?_ another voice in Erron's mind asked. _If you couldn't kill the kid, then how do you expect to kill them?_

 _Would you try to save them, too …?_

"Erron," Kotal Kahn spoke, his tone hard. "You defied my orders by bringing Kung Jin to Outworld alive. By contractual agreement, you were obligated to eradicate all the Thunder God's envoys. I expected you to have carried out this task in your own time, yet I was startled to be informed that you had brought an Earthrealmer – an enemy – to the healing chambers."

"The monk's dying," Erron answered simply, raising his gun higher. "He's not gonna make it if he doesn't receive proper treatment."

"He is not supposed to be alive at all!" the emperor exclaimed. "My orders were explicit enough: you were to eliminate him and his comrades. But evidently that is not the case."

To all appearances, it seemed like he and the mercenary's associates were slowly closing in on him and the bowman. Swallowing his dread, Erron's other hand automatically clutched the top of his other gun.

"Don't come any closer," he warned, trying to conceal the tremor in his timbre. "Stay away from Junior – I mean, _Jin_."

Here, Kotal Kahn canted his head to the side, looking somewhat bemused.

"You are not his carer, yet you have planted yourself in that ludicrous position for some reason or another," he murmured. "But your efforts shall come to nought, for his will be a swift death …"

"I'll be damned if I'll let you touch him," Erron heard himself snarl. "He's not about to die."

 _Not about to? He's practically on the edge of death._

 _He_ will _die …_

"I won't let him," he added lowly, more to himself than his employer. "I won't let him die …"

"Mr Black?"

The timorous voice of the healer grabbed everyone's attention. Not trusting himself to move from his place lest he exposed the Shaolin monk to the emperor and the others, Erron turned his head to look at the Outworlder who was grim-faced and pale. The bandage strips that he pressed to the bowman's chest were soaked through, the white material painted a ghastly red colour. The young man's chest itself now rose up and lowered at an excruciatingly slow pace.

 _Oh s*** … oh hell …_

"Mr Black," the healer said, "he's bleeding too much. If we can't perform an immediate operation, his lungs will rapidly fill with blood and … he will essentially drown."

The mercenary's heart banged at the walls of his chest. He looked at the kid's face – even in an unconscious state, it was twisted in excruciation, his cheeks were wet and his rosy-pink mouth was parted, droplets of blood running down his chin in abandon.

"Drown?" he repeated, not wanting to believe it.

But this moment of disbelief gave Kotal Kahn the opening he needed.

The powerful being rushed forward, knocking the gun out of Erron's hand. Taken completely by surprise, the gun-slinger barely had time to retaliate before Kotal Kahn grabbed hold of both his wrists. His grip was strong, hurting his skin (and just about close to crushing his bones) despite the fact that he wore his own protective armbands. Erron grunted in pain. Trying to pull back his wrists only served to have the grip on wrists tightened even more.

Then, with all his might, the Osh-Tekk swung the former Earthrealmer away from the bed and behind him, hurling him into the bear-like arms of Torr. The brute caught him, wrapping his brawny arms around his bloodied body. Erron cried out as he did so, the weight of his captor's arms knocking the wind out of him and hurting his rib-cage. He was lifted a few feet off the floor; Ferra jumped off her partner's back to remove the other gun from Erron's holster and to pick up the other one on the ground. With his arms pinned to his side, the Outworld cowboy could only thrash wildly in Torr's hold.

"Put me down!" he yelled for all he was worth. "Let me go!"

"Struggling will serve you no purpose, mercenary," Reptile remarked as he appeared beside Torr. The Zaterran's nostrils crinkled upon inhaling the copper scent that the former Earthrealmer's clothing was saturated in. "The Shaolin monk is as good as dead. The Kahn will enjoy the fruits of your labour."

Erron stilled in fear. He watched Kotal Kahn approaching the bed, slow and smooth as a jaguar honing in on its prey. The healer tried to maintain his place at the Shaolin monk's side, but the heated glare that his leader shot at him made him retreat hurriedly into a corner. The bloodied bandages slipped off the bowman's chest, exposing the bullet wound. Blood continued to stream out of it, but this time the flow was becoming less and less fast and more thinner …

 _His heart-rate is slowing down._

Kotal Kahn took in the Earthrealmer's unconscious form. Then, his eyes fell on Erron's knife that had been placed on the bed-side tray. He reached for it, his fingers tracing the blade's edge.

 _The Kahn will enjoy the fruits of your labour …_

His intent was all too clear as he turned back to the kid.

"Get away from him!" shouted Erron, his struggling efforts renewed. "Don't you dare touch him! I swear, if you do …!"

The emperor paid no heed to his employee at first. With one hand, he touched the monk's wound. The tips of his fingers were coated in crimson after a few seconds or so of feeling the general area. His hand wandered upwards by a few inches, splayed open over the area underneath which his weakening heart beat decreasingly, bleeding itself dry.

Erron was incensed by what he was seeing. He wanted to screech, "Get your damn hands off him!" and "Get them off _now_! _I'll shoot you where you goddamn stand!_ ", but the words were stuck in his throat. Instead, he resorted to flailing even more in Torr's arms.

 _Don't do it! Don't kill him!_

"Be still, Black," he heard Ermac say. "It is not wise to go against the emperor's authority."

Erron did not deign to respond to that statement. However, it seemed as if someone else heard it loud and clear.

Finally, Kotal Kahn tore his gaze away from the Shaolin monk, his grip on the knife slackening somewhat. He regarded Erron with eyes that betrayed nary an emotion. They searched the other man's face for what seemed like forever and a day.

Erron, no longer thrashing, stared back. His mask hid his look of unhappiness well; only his eyes could do his pleading for him.

 _Junior doesn't have much time. We've got to do the operation._

 _Please …_

Half a solid minute passed between them before Kotal Kahn, holding the knife tightly now, uprooted his gaze and addressed Torr and his comrades in a flat yet firm tone:

"Remove Erron Black from this room immediately – and sedate him if needs be."

" _No_!" cried Erron, trying in vain to escape, but Torr's hold on him was upgraded to a breathtaking, painful squeeze. "Ugh! Don't do this!"

The emperor took to ignoring him again. Turning his back on him, he beckoned the healer to come out of his corner, telling him that he was not going anywhere.

"Your assistance is required," he added, touching the kid's chest again with his bloody fingers. "Hold him down for me …"

Erron yelled out despite the aching sensation that pulsated throughout his body.

"Quiet, Bang-bang," Ferra hissed in his ear before saying something unintelligible to Torr, who responded with a grumble and turned towards the door, walking towards it with a strong clutch on the squirming cowboy. Reptile and Ermac followed suit in silence.

 _Oh hell no! The kid's a goner!_

 _He wouldn't be going through this if you hadn't –_

 _SHUT UP!_

The door banged close behind them, and Erron still struggled as they walked further and further away from the healing chambers and down the corridor. Obscenities flew past his lips, he pinched and scratched at Torr's arms, he demanded to be released, he –

"Forgive me, Black," Ermac's voice rung in his ears before a cold, gloved hand pressed against his forehead.

Suddenly, the former Earthrealmer's mind was overwhelmed by a cloud of white noise. His body stiffened as his head became painfully heavy, his vision rolling …

… and then he saw no more.

* * *

"– consequences in due time … wait, he is waking up."

When Erron opened his eyes, he half-expected to be surrounded by flames and showered with brimstones. He became aware that he was lying atop of a bed, his head laid back on soft pillows and his fingers digging deep into the comforter _._ The lumber boards attached to the adobe ceiling and the herbal scent in the air made the gun-slinger realise where exactly he was.

 _I'm back in the healing chambers._

All of a sudden, something appeared in his vision. Blinking away the slight blurriness, Erron could see someone's face looking down at his. Auburn eyes gleamed from the impish countenance.

"Bang-bang enjoy sleep?" Ferra asked. "Better than screaming all time. Skinny scream lots, says Big Bossy – now Skinny sleep like the dead."

Erron's eyes widened at that.

 _Junior._

Despite his grogginess, the mercenary sat up fast, nearly knocking head-first into Ferra. Looking to his left, Erron saw Kotal Kahn, Reptile and Ermac standing together in front of another bed. All of them were looking at him. Torr stood near to the door. The healer was nowhere to be seen.

 _Where's Junior?_

Ignoring the others, Erron looked directly at the Osh-Tekk. From his bed, he could see some blood covering the painted skin of his hands, and bloody flecks had somehow gotten on his chest, midriff and the leather of his loincloth. The comforter was squeezed into balls by Erron's fingers.

 _What in the hell did he do?_

"The Earthrealmer was dying," said Kotal Kahn, staring at Erron with a narrowed gaze. "He was dangerously close to losing his life because of your actions, however skewed they were. Putting him out of his misery seemed to be the only logical solution …"

He paused.

Erron inhaled sharply. The beats of his heart echoed harshly in his ears.

The emperor shook his head.

"But even _I_ would not allow myself to finish the dirty work that you started," he murmured.

As if on cue, Kotal Kahn moved to the side, and Reptile and Ermac followed suit. Erron's eyes fell on the other bed, and immediately they were filled with surprise.

"Jin …?" he whispered in disbelief.

Kotal Kahn nodded.

"Yes, Erron. He's _alive_."

In the bed next to his lay the Shaolin monk. His lower body was covered by the comforter, and his arms – now lacking armbands – lay on either side of his form. His chest, swathed in bandages and washed clean where they had been blood, rose slowly and steadily. The kid's head was propped up by large pillows; his face was no longer clouded by agony. No tears, no blood, no pain … just peace.

 _Skinny sleep like the dead._

Drawing his gaze downwards towards his chest, studying the bandages for several seconds, Erron looked back up at the Osh-Tekk emperor.

"You saved him?" he questioned, incredulous.

Reptile hissed under his breath, but his leader shot him a fiery glare that made him hush, although the Zaterran – no longer wearing his mask – looked extremely bitter. Then, the Kahn turned to address the stunned former Earthrealmer.

"His life was not yours to save," he stated, "nor was it mine. He was meant to die."

Erron stared at his employer, goggle-eyed. He opened his mouth to say something, but the other man waved a dismissive hand.

"Proceed to the throne room in five minutes," he commanded. "We will discuss the matter there. Ermac, escort him when he is ready. Do not let him out of your sight. The rest of you, follow me."

Kotal Kahn strode past Erron's bed and out of the healing chambers with Reptile and Ferra/Torr on his heels. When they were gone, Ermac stepped towards his comrade, watching as the gun-slinger swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up to stand. Ignoring the construct, Erron walked towards the kid's bed, stopping beside it to take in the bandaged, sleeping form. The bowman's face was still pale, but one could see the colour returning to his cheeks.

 _Why did the Kahn save you? Why didn't he finish you off when he had the opportunity?_

"You would do well not to tarry, Black," said Ermac, interrupting his thoughts. "We do not wish to see the Kahn's wrath unleashed upon you."

He glanced at the Outworld cowboy's bloodied attire. "You look terrible."

Erron frowned behind his mask, but he did not say a word.

 _Save your energy for the emperor. Don't waste your breath on ghosty._

At that moment, the healer appeared from around the corner with a small pile of clean sheets in his arms. When he saw Erron and Ermac, he stopped in his tracks, a look of fear flashing across his face.

"Mr Black," he stammered, looking down at the ground. "The operation … it was a success. The emperor's expertise saved your … er, your quarry."

Erron did not immediately respond to that statement. It was when he assured himself that he saw the monk still breathing that he turned his attention to the Outworlder.

"Still have my knife?" he asked lowly.

The healer nodded.

"Keep it," said the gun-slinger before he gestured to the kid. "Watch him."

"Even if he awakes now, he will not be able to escape in his current condition," Ermac remarked.

Here, Erron turned to Ermac with narrowed eyes.

"Who said anything about him escaping? It's more about keeping unwanted visitors out …"

His voice trailed off, but the implications were clear. Ermac looked as if he was going to say something, but he held his tongue.

Casting one last glance at the Shaolin monk, Erron spoke to the healer again.

"Watch him," he repeated. "He's lucky to remain alive."

 _Me … I can't say the same._

Gulping down the thought, Erron noticed movement in the corner of his eyes. Turning, he watched as Ermac used his powers to pick up the mercenary's hat that had been flung into corner and forgotten by its owner. The construct lightly brushed the hat's brim before proffering it up to Erron.

"Perhaps wearing it will draw attention away from your appearance," he commented.

Erron silently accepted the headgear. Then, with his comrade following in his step, he took a deep breath and left the healing chambers.

* * *

The throne room was a grand affair. Under Shao Kahn's rule, it had been dark and deadly as the one who had occupied the throne. After his death, Mileena rebuilt the palace to suit her needs, although the throne room remained the same so as to honour her father's memory. When Kotal Kahn toppled her empire, the palace – including the room – underwent a huge overhaul. The complete product was Osh-Tekk architecture to the core, but an Earthrealm eye would see the influence of Mayan infrastructure.

It was a spacious room, with stone pillars – their surfaces carved with iconographic designs – rising to meet the ceiling. Red velvet drapes hung from the ceiling, and fire lamps stood against the adobe walls that also had designs etched into them. To the far end of the room was the throne, a modest stone structure standing upon a small platform, with the wall behind it inlaid with tiles and a great, golden sun disk. Retractable panels in the ceiling, remnants of Shao Kahn's rule, were only opened during special occasions, allowing the light of the Outworld sun to reflect off the disk. If the figure sitting upon the throne was not intimidating enough, then surely the skulls sitting at the platform's base did the trick.

As Erron and Ermac entered the throne room, the cowboy's neutral expression behind his mask faltered as his eyes fell upon Kotal Kahn's lofty figure sitting erect upon the throne. His face was void of emotion, save for the fire still raging in his eyes. On his right stood Reptile – a fitting place for his right-hand man, so to speak, although jesting whispers among the servants reckoned that, given his forever-long affiliation with the emperor, his rightful place was on the left … the place of the consort.

 _They said the same thing about_ **her** _…_

Ferra/Torr instead occupied the left of the Osh-Tekk; so still they were, they looked like statues. The girl could have been a stone gargoyle perched on top of an obelisk. The only sign of movement was the frayed edges of Torr's cloth flapping every time the brute breathed.

As the two enforcers approached him, Kotal Kahn locked eyes with Ermac and waved his bloodstained hand towards the dual being. Bowing his head, Ermac walked away from Erron to join them. Balling his hands into fists, the former Earthrealmer turned his kohl-painted eyes up to Outworld's god.

 _"_ He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun _" – c'mon, darling, repeat it after me, don't be lazy …_

"Erron Black."

Kotal Kahn's voice rumbled throughout the throne room, sending a wave of vibrations through Erron's body – and no doubt that of the others. He kept his gaze on his employer, though he dug his fingernails deep into the folds of his palms.

"Erron Black," started the emperor, "on this day you did disobey my orders to terminate Raiden's team of Earthrealm warriors. The stipulations of your contract outlined that all four of them were to perish. By letting the Shaolin monk, Kung Jin, live, and by bringing him to my palace, you failed in your service.

"To add further to this betrayal of trust, you made use of the healing chambers' resources to aid in his recovery, _and_ you openly defied me by questioning my authority, by putting yourself between me and the Earthrealmer, by threatening to kill me and by your attempting to retaliate against your comrades' own efforts to subdue you. They _all_ bore witness to your insubordinate behaviour."

Reptile nodded in affirmation, Ermac bowed his head once more, and Ferra/Torr issued a mixture of giggles and growls.

"So pray tell me, mercenary," Kotal Kahn said as he leaned forward in his seat, his tone dangerously low, "what precisely was the reasoning behind your actions? And Elder Gods help me, I will _not_ accept silence as an answer."

Erron knew it would have been appropriate to cast his eyes downwards out of respect for the powerful being whilst he answered. In spite of this, however, he kept his azure-blue eyes locked on the burning globes, for it added a sense of validity and strength to his responding statement:

"I don't know, Emperor."

For a moment, Kotal Kahn looked flabbergasted, as did the others. Then, his features hardened like clay.

"You don't know? _You don't know?_ " he bellowed. "That answer is no less acceptable than silence! Your made your intention clear in the healing chambers – to keep the Shaolin monk alive. But I want to know _why_ this is so. What made you disregard my commands, Erron?"

"Again, I don't know, Emperor," replied Erron, his tone both even and sincere. "I can't offer you a reason more feasible than that."

 _Feasible hardly describes it. Still, if it will prevent_ my _skull from being fixed to the floor …_

A sickening _crack!_ was heard as the Kahn brought his fist down on the arm of his throne; chunks of rock splintered off and fell to the ground in a dusty heap. The gun-slinger nearly gave up the ghost, he got a terrible fright, yet he was amazed at himself for maintaining his composure. But it took all of his strength to not look away, for the intensity of the Osh-Tekk's eyes was as strong as twin suns.

"Erron," the emperor roared in absolute rage, "do you realise what predicament you have put me in?"

Erron was silent.

 _I've got a feeling that you're gonna tell me._

"Ye gods," Kotal Kahn groaned, looking up towards the ceiling in a beseeching manner. "What have I done to deserve another D'Vorah in my midst?"

Erron drew in a sharp breath; his associates exchanged looks of astonishment, the sound of _her_ name resounding in the air.

 _D'Vorah …_

Her name had never been spoken, by the emperor or the rest of its habitants, in the palace for the longest time, though it remained in their minds … until now.

 _The Kahn never forgave her for betraying him to Shinnok … she never had to see his eyes when we told him what she'd done …_

" _Another D'Vorah in my midst" … why does it feel like he is calling me a Judas?_

"Erron," said Kotal Kahn, his voice rising with every word that left his mouth, "bringing the Shaolin monk to Outworld was a terrible mistake on your part. No doubt that Special Forces will raise the alarm when they find _three_ bullet-ridden bodies and _one_ missing. They will try to find him, and sooner or later they will trace his whereabouts to Outworld. It will take them no time at all to discover that I called for their extermination."

"Emperor, if you're concerned about S-F finding the monk, and if you wanted him dead, then why didn't _you_ kill him earlier?" asked Erron, the words escaping before he could stop them.

The Osh-Tekk gawked at the cowboy's impertinence, then a growl much like thunder boomed from the back of his throat.

" _Tixtotomac!_ " he yelled. "That was _your_ responsibility! I did not wish to sully my hands in completing a simple task that I had assigned you, yet they are sullied nonetheless for saving his pathetic life!"

"Then why did you?" pressed Erron calmly, backing a step away.

 _Why does he still live, Black? What made you put down the gun?_

The Kahn kept a firm grip on his throne's arms, and the former Earthrealmer's inquiry only served to make his grip tighten.

"I assume," he responded through gritted teeth, "that you were going to return Kung Jin to Earthrealm once you had performed the operation?"

Erron hesitated before shaking his head.

"Not immediately after, no," he answered. "He would be in no condition to travel. Recovery from a wound of that calibre takes time."

Kotal Kahn stared at him.

"Did you plan to return him to Earthrealm at all, Erron?"

The mercenary's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"I …"

His voice went no further than that.

The emperor pinched the bridge of his nose as he groaned again.

"Clearly you did not have a plan of action for beyond that point," he grumbled.

Erron bit on his bottom lip in a precarious manner. _The emperor's right. I didn't think what I was gonna do with the kid after all this s*** got pulled. Then again, I didn't think I was gonna end up not killing him …_

"He can't return to Earthrealm," he heard himself say. "At least, not until he heals properly. 'Til then, we can only hope that the heat will die down."

It was the turn of Kotal Kahn to raise his eyebrows.

"They will suspect you, Erron," he said. "Their technology far surpasses ours, and they will be able to discover the Earthrealmers' cause of death and hold you responsible."

"Not necessarily," retorted Erron. "I'm not the only gun-toting mercenary in the universe, and S-F isn't without its enemies. The Black Dragon, the Red Dragon … they'd have a reason to kill off Cage, Takahashi and Briggs."

Kotal Kahn did not look convinced.

"And what of Kung Jin? His absence will be the Earthrealmers' primary concern."

"Taken hostage by either one of those clans, for ransom or for reasons only known to them," the other man replied. "Perhaps he was interrogated and killed afterwards, and they disposed of his body."

The emperor sat back in his throne, regarding the former Earthrealmer through half-lidded eyes.

"Yet whatever the case may be, _you_ still intend to keep the Shaolin monk alive," he stated flatly.

The second hesitation was not lost on the powerful being. "Come now, Erron, what say you?"

Aware of the others staring at him in expectation, Erron lowered his head and closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts.

 _Say no, and Junior will die. Say yes, and you_ both _will die … maybe …_

 _Can you pay the price of betrayal?_

 _What is your verdict, Black, before yours is passed down?_

He opened his eyes, letting them wander up to settle upon the seated figure.

"So long as the kid's in Outworld, no one touches him if I can help it," he proclaimed.

"Traitorous scum," jeered Reptile, the sharp sibilant sounds harsh to Erron's ears.

" _Cacti_ ," Kotal Kahn hissed in the Zaterran's direction before he focused on the gun-slinger. "In light of your failure to honour your contract, then it is apt that you shall be punished forthwith."

Erron's fingernails nearly broke through the skin of his palms like a crucifixion in process.

The emperor continued with his sentencing. "For disposing only three of the four Earthrealmers, you will not receive the payment of the amount that was agreed upon in the contract."

"What?!" cried Erron, his mouth open in shock.

"For your disobedience," went on the Outworlder, "you will be suspended from your duties for six weeks without pay."

" _Six weeks without pay!_ Emperor, you can't do that!"

"Protest any further, mercenary, and I will gladly change it to _12 weeks_ without pay," the Kahn shot back.

Erron shut his mouth. His fists trembled in fury.

"Finally, for your inclination to preserve the life of Kung Jin," concluded Kotal Kahn, "you will be responsible for his well-being. You will pay out of _your_ own expenses to help him through his recovery: that includes food, lodging and medical supplies. The palace kitchen will not cater for you nor for him. Should you require the assistance of the healer, _you_ pay him out of your pocket, not mine."

He paused as he leaned forward again, those twin suns boring into the black-lined ocean that were Erron's eyes.

"But if the monk attempts to make contact with Earthrealm and bring the truth behind his team-mates' deaths to light," he muttered lowly, "I will plant a knife in his chest and slash him wide open once more … only _this_ time, I will let him bleed himself dry."

Those chilly words made Erron's skin go cold in an instant, dousing his rage for a moment. All at once, Ferra's earlier remark made sense.

 _Skinny scream lots, says Big Bossy …_

 _First my bullets, then_ my _knife …_

"As of this moment, your punishment is effective immediately," declared Kotal Kahn. He sat back in his throne with an air of finality. "Now take your leave."

Erron moved a step forward. "Emperor, what –"

"The matter has been dealt with," the Osh-Tekk emperor cut him off firmly. "Leave _now_."

Those were his final words, and Erron knew that there was no arguing with him. Once again biting his bottom lip, he glanced around at his comrades. Reptile glowered at him, his yellow-green eyes, if not his entire frame, radiating absolute loathing; Ferra had taken to fiddling with the cords of the rope wound around Torr's face covering, the symbiotic pair apparently content with their leader's judgement; Ermac stared down at his feet, an unreadable expression on his decrepit face.

 _So it must be like this … they see me like they see D'Vorah …_

… _very well._

Wordlessly, Erron touched the brim of his hat, turned around and strode out of the throne room.

When he was gone, Kotal Kahn let out a weary sigh.

"Heavy is the head that wears the crown, as the Earthrealm saying goes," he muttered under his breath.

His enforcers moved from their places to stand before him, awaiting their orders. Again pinching the bridge of his nose, ignoring the copper smell of the mortal's blood on his hand, the Osh-Tekk man addressed them:

"You will all leave here now and resume your regular duties. Do not attempt to aid Erron unless the Shaolin monk threatens to throw us all into jeopardy – if it ever comes down to that unpleasant situation, you have my approval to end the Earthrealmer's life. Ferra and Torr, return Erron's weapons to him before the end of today."

The heat in his eyes cooled. "It has been a poor day, but _nimitznotlatlauhtilia_ , do not let your comrade's actions dwell in your hearts and minds. The sun will remain high so long as you are risen towards it. You are dismissed."

With a cry of " _Loopay!_ " from Ferra, Torr tramped out of the throne room. Ermac dipped his head respectfully and floated after them.

This left only Reptile. He edged towards the Kahn, who watched him intently despite his visible exhaustion.

"Ko'atal," the Zaterran said, the Osh-Tekk's birth name sounding oddly soft off his sharp tongue. "Black asked the question that has been puzzling me this entire time: why didn't you kill Kung Jin when you had the chance?"

Here, Kotal Kahn sighed once more. In that moment, he appeared less like a god and more like a tired man who carried the weight of the world upon his shoulders. When he answered Reptile, his tone conveyed a sense of all-knowing, yet his enforcer knew there was a smidgen of truth to his words.

"Because, Syzoth," the emperor replied, "if I had killed the Shaolin monk, then I've no doubt in my mind that Erron Black would not rest, letting no obstacle hinder him, until he killed _me_."

* * *

"Are you sure that you want him here rather than stay in the healing chambers, Mr Black?"

"He'll be safer from the others if he stays here. Besides, I ain't prepared to pay you beyond medical help if you start charging me for rent."

Erron's eyes dropped to the face of the sleeping Shaolin monk. In the light of the mid-afternoon sun that shone through the window, his features looked tranquil and lively – much different from before when it had been masked with agony.

"It's for the best," the gun-slinger murmured before looking at the healer. "No one enters _my_ bedroom except for me, and no one will have access to the kid without my say-so."

As soon as he had left the throne room, a furious Erron felt the urge to punch something. He wanted to scream and shout until his voice gave out, to tear at his hair whilst cursing his entire existence …

… but instead, he paused in his step, took a deep breath and considered what just happened.

 _You're alive, Black, and so's Junior. Even if the punishment's gonna bite you in the ass, you're lucky to have gotten away with such a light sentence._

 _Right now, concentrate on the kid. You've gotta watch him now._

 _'Cause sure as hell he's far from safe …_

Putting on a calm façade, Erron made his way back to the healing chambers and, upon entering it, walked straight to the Earthrealmer's bed, beside which sat the tense healer with the mercenary's knife clutched in his hands; the kid was the same as he had left him, deep in slumber. That was to be understood, since he was still fresh from the operation.

 _And all that screaming must've tired him out._

"Mr Black," the healer started as he got up. "What did the emperor say?"

Erron turned to him. "Never mind what he said for now – listen to what I'm gonna say to _you_. The monk's not going to stay here any more. Staying here will put his safety at risk. He'll have to be moved."

"Moved? Where to?"

The Outworld cowboy thought for a long moment before he responded with his own question:

"Tell me, are you able to get one of these beds to fit through the door of my sleeping quarters?"

And it was not long after this question was asked when the healer, with the assistance of some palace servants – who were unaware of Erron's punishment – dismantled one of the beds, carried everything from the pillows and the sheets to the mattress and the frame to the former Earthrealmer's sleeping quarters located on the east side of the palace, and set up the bed on the left side of the spacious room (being in the employ of Kotal Kahn, suspended or otherwise, has its perks, as the room was quite a change from what Erron was used to).

When this was complete, it was then time to move the bowman from the healing chambers to the bedroom. As he had done before, Erron carefully placed his arms under the other man's body and lifted him up; the sash-like garment that was wrapped around his waist and his armoured boots had been removed by the healer, leaving him only in his baggy pants and bandages.

 _Least he's lighter to carry this time round, damn his fat ass._

Through the palace corridors Erron carried the monk. The latter's head was tipped back, but at least the jasmine scent in his hair did not spring forth again. In any case, the former was more concerned about the looks he drew from the servants that he passed. Astounded, they stared as they saw the gun-slinger carrying the unconscious Earthrealmer like a groom would carry his bride over the threshold. In due time, Erron knew, they would learn what had happened earlier that day, but he still felt unnerved by their condemnatory looks.

 _I've had enough condemnation for one day …_

Soon, Erron had reached his sleeping quarters. Spacious though it was, with a balcony overlooking a spectacular view of Z'Unkahrah and with an en-suite bathroom attached, it was more or less just a place that housed his few possessions and where he could lay his head at night. It was not very colourful (unless you counted the red curtains), and the décor was scarce, save for the odd Outworld relic, trophies collected from his contract jobs and several lightweight fire lamps. Against the left wall stood his wardrobe, which was sparsely filled with clothing, and his rifle and Tarkatan-bladed sword hung on a rack standing next to it. On the right side of the room was a wooden table with drawers; its surface was clean, but other times Erron would be leaning over it to carve names into his bullets or to be polishing them, the barrels of his guns and his boots. His large bed was at the far end, and the bed-side table was bare, normally littered with the cowboy's revolvers.

Entering the room, Erron felt his body relax little by little. He did not much care for the materialistic value of his quarters, but he sure as hell appreciated the privacy it afforded him. His solitary nature was not unusual, although it emphasised the fact that he was not of Outworld origin, that he was an outcast of sorts. His only haven was this room, and no one was allowed to enter it lest they planned on walking head-first into two gun barrels.

 _Home away from home, I s'pose …_

Ever so gently, Erron had laid the Shaolin monk into the spare bed and pulled the covers over him. The healer, who had sent the servants away, handed over the bowman's personal effects: his armour plate, his bead and teeth necklaces, the sash and his boots.

"I'll come by later this evening to check on him," he said. "His bandages will only need replacing tomorrow, but it's more the case of whether he feels ill after he wakes up that I'm concerned with."

"Do what you have to do," responded the mercenary. "I'll fill you in on the details of my meeting with the Kahn later."

The healer stole a glance at his patient before looking back at Erron. His lips formed into a frown.

"Mr Black, are you quite certain that the Earthrealmer is safe _here_?" he asked.

Erron's shaded eyes glinted harshly.

"It's for his own good," he answered sonorously. "Maintaining his overall well-being is _my_ responsibility. If you don't have anything else to say to me, then go. Meet back here at six o'clock."

With uncertainty etched into his features, the healer left the room, leaving the gun-slinger alone with the bowman.

Watching the door close, Erron went to lock it. Then, turning around, his gaze fell upon the monk once more. The sunlight touched the raven strands of his hair, making them appear golden.

 _Golden … smelling like jasmine … just like –_

 _No. Don't think of her._

Breathing in, Erron caught the whiff of copper. It was then he remembered that his entire outfit, with the exception of his poncho, was bloodstained. Indeed, dry blood caked his vest, knee-pads and parts of his armbands and boots, whilst his soaked shirt and pants stuck to his skin.

 _No friggin' wonder those servants looked at me something awful._

Removing his hat and his bandoliers, Erron quietly walked pass the kid's bed – glancing over to make sure that he was really alive and well, so to speak – and made his way towards the bathroom.

* * *

It was past four o'clock, but it did not stop Erron from taking swigs of whiskey from his flask.

 _It's been a long day._

The former Earthrealmer leaned against the frame of the balcony doors, taking in the view of the city and basking in the warmth of the Outworld sun. He had emerged from a long, hot bath, feeling cleansed and comfortable. With his soiled clothes left in a pile that he would send away to be cleaned, the mercenary was now dressed in a loose dark shirt and black silk pants. His hat, poncho and mask hung on the rack. His blue eyes had been scrubbed clean, no longer ringed in kohl, and they _almost_ drew attention away from the prominent cheek-bones, the smooth and sturdy jawline, and the pink lips which were slightly plump.

If anyone was to be asked who he was, they would never think for a moment that he was Erron Black, the infamous mercenary, unless they took the well-known, tally-marked scars adorning his muscular arms into consideration.

To the eyes of Outworlders, they would have most likely answered, "He's just an Earthrealmer."

 _Wrong._

 _Earthrealm isn't my home … not any more._

 _I'm an Outworlder now._

 _Not that it stops them from thinking of me as an Earthrealm traitor …_

Sighing, Erron glanced over at the Shaolin monk – he still slept away.

 _Peaceful-looking …_

… _but I bet that won't last long. Junior can be a cocky little jackass when he puts his mind to it, and I'm sure he'll give me some grief when he comes to. To think I have to look after him without six weeks' pay …_

The whiskey tasted good as he downed another swig. The thought of going without payment for six weeks, however, along with the fact that he was not being paid for killing the other Earthrealmers, was a bitter pill to swallow. Other than the beverage, the only thing that soothed Erron was the knowledge that he had enough money to support himself for at least another two months. When he was not carrying out his duties at the palace, he lent his private mercenary services to persons who had need of his particular skills. Agreeing to carry out contract kills meant earning big money from his well-to-do clients, and Erron was not the type to spend his money willy-nilly.

 _A Judas by profession, minus the betrayal and more than 30 pieces of silver …_

The smoky flavour of the golden liquid was delicious, making Erron hum with pleasure.

But it was not even a full five seconds later when the little hum turned into a croon that the gun-slinger absent-mindedly begun under his breath …

* * *

 _Ten pieces of silver for my company  
My trust for ten pieces more  
Give me 30 pieces of silver  
Then darlin', I'm all yours._

 _Speak my name softly three times, honey,  
And cry it when it comes to four  
Give me 30 pieces of silver  
Then darlin', I'm all yours._

 _Kiss your cheek for everyone to see  
It was you I once adored  
But for 30 pieces of silver  
Oh darlin', I ain't yours._

 _30 pieces of silver for my company  
You can't spare a penny more  
Can'tcha give 30 pieces of silver  
Then darlin', there's the door._

" _Darling?"_

 _He nearly jumped upon hearing her voice. Turning his head to look behind him, he saw her standing in the doorway, a frown painted across her pretty features. From where he sat – on the first step of the porch – he could tell that she was unhappy._ _ **Very**_ _unhappy._

" _Yes'm? he said, his voice small._

" _What are you doin' out here, boy?" she asked, her honeyed timbre suddenly taking on a harsh quality. "Ain't you supposed to be helpin' your brothers clean out the barn?"_

" _They told me I'm too small to help 'em," he answered in a quiver. "They called me a baby."_

" _And you believed 'em?"_

" _Yes'm. They call me a baby all the time. And Junior, too."_

" _So Junior decided to sit here lookin' pretty on my front porch and sing a song of sin for the whole damn world to hear?"_

 _She was practically hissing at him, and it made him want to crawl under the porch and cry._

" _I was only singin' it 'cause I heard_ you _sing it," he whimpered._

 _Her eyes flashed like lightning in a North Texas storm._

" _What did you say?" she rumbled._

 _His lower lip began to wobble, and his face began to grow warm. He anxiously picked at his fingernails._

" _Answer me, boy!" she barked, stamping her foot._

 _Biting on his bottom lip, the poor little thing stammered his reply: "I heard you singin' it the other night when I saw you were out here on the porch with Mr Samson –"_

" **Hush up!** _"_

 _She stomped towards him, and he was so overcome by fear that he could not bring himself to run away. Several seconds later, a cry escaped from his mouth as she took hold of his left ear, pinching it between her warm fingers, and pulled him up to his feet. Hot tears licked at the corners of his eyes, but she paid them no mind._

" _Lemme tell you something, darling, and you listen good 'cause I'm only sayin' this once," she hissed into the reddening ear. "Never sing that song again. It ain't fit for decent folks to hear, and I don't want anybody to think that I raised my boys the wrong way. Got that?"_

 _She pinched his ear harder, eliciting another cry._

" _Yes'm," he choked, tears streaming down his cheeks._

" _And boy, you don't tell any livin' soul about you seein' me with Mr Samson," she whispered perilously. "You especially don't breathe a word of this to your daddy. Swear on the good Lord's name that you won't!"_

" _I won't, Mama, I won't!" he sobbed. "Please let me go!"_

" _Swear on His name, you little Judas or Junior or whoever the hell you are!"_

" _I swear! I swear!"_

 _Pin-pricks of blood stained her fingertips._

" _Say it again, boy!"_

 _He could not, for all he could do was weep and weep and –_

* * *

"Mmmph …"

Erron's head snapped up when he heard the low moan.

 _What was that?_

Closing and pocketing his flask, the mercenary walked a couple of steps away from the door frame towards the occupied spare bed. He stared at the Shaolin monk, whose eyes were still closed and his body lying the same way as before, and he frowned.

 _Did I imagine that? The kid looks like he's still sleeping –_

"Arrrgghh …"

This time, the rosy-pink lips parted to let an audible moan escape. His eyebrows furrowed as those closed eyes squeezed tighter, making his eyelashes hug the top of his cheeks. His head moved slightly on its left, and yet another moan, or moans, were made:

"Ughnnn … mmm …"

Erron's heart did a somersault, and the barest hint of a smile made itself known on his unmasked face.

 _Junior is waking up._

* * *

 **A/N** : _Tixtotomac_ = "You are a fool"; _Cacti_ = "Quiet"; _Nimitznotlatlauhtilia_ = "I pray to you" (all from the Aztecan language, Nahuatl - I couldn't find a suitable Yucatec Maya resource, so I opted for Nahuatl ^-^;;); _Loopay_ = derived from Afrikaans _loop_ , meaning "walk" (kinda taking creative license with Ferra/Torr's language here).

 **Alexa** \- * _Huggles_ * I hope the doubts and fear are gone away now ... sort of? * _Hides in bushes in shame_ * Poor boys indeed; at least Ko-Ko didn't kill them (otherwise I probably would've booted the Sun God when the sun don't shine). Hope this chappie was alright - and yay for being a fellow E/J lover! I've got too many MK OTPs, but these two are my chilluns so far. :D

 **Jackie** \- Oh my goodness, I'm sorry that this update is so delayed and it kept you waiting! :'( I feel bad for making these poor bubbies suffer, but anything to make Erron more human and less like a robotic raccoon (bruh does care, bless him, not that he'll admit it). Aw no, poor Ermac. XD Still, I get what you mean - I'd hate to be delayed when there's an emergency going down. Hopefully he redeemed himself a little in this chapter? Heh, even in the most serious of moments, the cowboy's gotta ruin it with his internal running commentary. XD Thank you for the lovely compliment, hun! :)

 **Guest** \- It took me a while to get my act together, but here's the update at last. :) It's a shame that there's not a lot of stories about Erron/Jin, but at least the one-shots on here are good. :) And thank you for calling _Black Velvet_ a masterpiece (I wish it was, though - and if you're the same guest, then yup, _Black Velvet_ is my baby). XD I know, Jin always seems to be the one who gets hit hard with the injuries and whatnot. But in the next chapter, Erron's not gonna get away unscathed. ;)

 **Creampuff** \- He's sorta fine ... for now. :) I think I can safely say that Ko-Ko pretty much ruined the moment(?) between these two, but don't worry, there'll be more in the future.

 **Gentleflam51** \- This is what happened next. Hope you liked it! :)

 **Azaba** \- Aww, thanks ever so much for the warm compliments, friend. * _Glomps_ * I'm having fun writing about Erron and exploring other aspects of his personality, and digging into his past is just as interesting (I feel bad for him in this chapter, though). He's my second fave charrie after Jin, but I think I make fun of him waaay too much at times * _grabs bonus points_ *. :)

Sorry for posting this chapter months after the second one - exams, Christmas and uni being a monster this year virtually kept me away from finishing this chapter off, so hopefully the length made up for it. Thank you for waiting patiently, and again a big thank-you to everyone for the reviews, faves and follows. :) Expect Chapter 3 for _Past The Point Of No Return_ to come out some time soon. Chapter 4 for this lil' story will make its way on here in due time; expect the Shaolin monk to actually say something when _SG_ returns.

Reviews are welcome!

*~AI07~* :)


	4. In Judas We Trust

**Stained Glass  
**

 **Chapter 4: In Judas We Trust**

" _All I'm saying is, that girl needs to check herself before she tries to come for me again, otherwise I'll deck her the moment she gets in my face and starts fogging up my aviators."_

" _She's not that bad, Cassie. She's just a bit temperamental."_

 _A snort. "A bit, Jacqui? For someone who's got cryomantic powers, Frost's such a hot-headed b****. I can't understand how Sub-Zero can put up with her s*** …"_

 _The conversation between Sergeant Cassie Cage and Specialist Jacqui Briggs continued, and Kung Jin rolled his eyes impressively as he listened to them. He had half a mind to pull out his MP3 player and listen to some music so that he would not have to hear their chitchat, but he decided against the idea – the device's battery was sitting on 83% or thereabouts, and the Shaolin monk did not want to waste its power whilst his team waited in one of S-F's lounges. It was going to be a long trip to Shenzhen, so the device was only going to be used to wile away the hours on the plane as they flew to their destination._

 _Blowing out a weary sigh and resting his chin in the palm of his hand, Jin looked across the table at Takahashi Takeda, who was fiddling with the ends of his head-band._

" _Never mind the Grandmaster putting up with Frost," the bowman muttered to him. "At least_ he _doesn't have to put up with these girls when they start yacking their mouths off."_

 _Takeda's eyes rolled this time, but he also smiled. "Give them a break, Jin. At least they're not arguing about Mr Cage like they did the last time."_

" _S'pose you're right about that," Jin conceded. "They yelled at each other from New York to Geneva all because Jacqui called Mr Cage hot. Geneva Conventions be damned, it felt like World War 3 was about to go down."_

 _The Shirai Ryu chuckled. "I don't even know if Cassie ever forgave Jacqui after that."_

" _She must have if they're talking right now."_

" _That's good," said Takeda. "It's better to just forgive, forget and move on."_

 _A dreamy expression bloomed across his face as he looked in the girls' direction, his dark eyes falling on the specialist. "Besides, I could listen to Jacqui talk all day …"_

 _His friend raised an eyebrow._

" _Whatever floats your boat, Takeda," he replied. "She could talk about sewage and you'd still find it attractive."_

 _The Shirai Ryu shook his head. "There's not a romantic bone in your body, huh, Jin?"_

 _The bowman was about to answer with a most witheringly dry retort when Cassie's voice rung out:_

" _Takeda, Jin, I got a message from my dad. He says the plane's arrived at the cargo bay. The pilot's gonna take a breather for half an hour, but we can start boarding in the meantime."_

 _The four team-mates picked up their hand luggage, which a S-F soldier was going to take to the plane for them. As the girls passed the young men, Jacqui stopped and smiled at Takeda, who responded with a beaming grin of his own. It practically shone as he received a kiss on the cheek before the specialist walked off to catch up with Cassie._

" _I guess you're not sitting next to me on the plane, then," Jin remarked._

 _Takeda, still beaming, patted his friend's shoulder. "On the next flight, we will," he said. "I promise."_

" _Promise, eh?" replied the monk, smiling knowingly. "Like you promised to teach me how to use your whip-chains? I'm still waiting for that to happen, Takahashi."_

 _The Shirai Ryu shrugged, looking sheepish._

" _Trust me, Jin," he said. "On the next flight home, we'll share seats. Then the whip-chains training will start after."_

 _He patted his shoulder again. "Let's get outta here."_

 _Satisfied with the promise, and mollified by his warm touch, Kung Jin allowed Takeda to lead him by the arm out of the lounge._

* * *

"Mmmph …"

Pain.

Kung Jin could feel a dull pain aching beneath his chest. Twinges of this painful sensation could be felt in every part of his body, coursing through his veins at a rapid rate. His limbs, stiff though they were, throbbed sorely – with every beat that his heart drummed out, the throbbing intensified. Moans passed his lips. Eyes squeezed shut, keeping the sting of tears at bay, he pressed the side of his face into what seemed like soft, cool material, but its comfort did nothing to relieve him.

 _It hurts … oh Elder Gods, it hurts …_

"Unghh …"

"Jin?"

He barely heard the low voice the first time around.

"Heeugh …"

"Jin? _Jin_."

This time, the Shaolin monk heard the voice softly speak his name. Thereafter, something warm touched the top of his shoulder, pressing into his skin gently.

"Mmm … Ta … Take … da …"

"Jin," the voice spoke again. "Wake up …"

Rolling his head so that it was lying back on the material ( _a pillow?_ ), Jin let his closed eyelids relax despite his discomfort. Breathing deeply yet at a hastened pace, he slowly began to open his eyes; they fluttered more than a few times, for his vision was blurred. All he saw was the hazy shape of a face staring down at him.

"Ta … keda," he moaned again. "Cas … sie …"

It was with another flutter that Jin's vision finally cleared.

… _huh? Who …?_

It was, the bowman could see, the face of a man. Dirty-blonde hair framed his tanned, smooth visage. In the center was a birdish nose; sitting beneath it were lips that were soft, pink and a little plump, contrasting with the sharpness of his cheek-bones and the sturdiness of his jawline. Above the nose were eyes the colour of lapis lazuli. They crinkled ever so slightly as they met the bemused, golden-brown eyes of Jin's. He pressed the monk's shoulder with his warm fingers again.

"It's okay, kid," he murmured. "You're safe."

Jin stared blankly up at the man, ignoring the increased twinges.

"Who … are you?" he asked, his voice husky. His throat was hoarse and dry for some reason.

The man blinked.

"It's me, Junior," he answered simply.

Whether it was the familiar bass twang of his voice, the monk's gaze falling upon the tally-marked scars that were etched into the other man's arms, or the name "Junior" slipping off his tongue that made Jin recognise the person looking over him, one could not say.

But it was in that moment that he realised who exactly he was dealing with.

"Black," Jin whispered.

Erron Black nodded, pulling on a blonde strand.

"No mask this time," he stated. "Uh, strange, I know."

The Shaolin monk's eyes widened.

"Black," he whispered again, a hint of dread creeping into his tone. His breathing quickened.

Erron's eyebrows furrowed. "Junior?"

Jin did not respond. In spite of his body's protests, he sluggishly sat up, the blanket falling to show his upper body, and Erron's hand slipped off his shoulder. He propped himself on his elbows, feeling the coil of bed-springs beneath them. His eyes were fixed on the former Earthrealmer; his chest rose and fell with every tremulous breath he exhaled.

"Black, you …" the bowman whimpered. "You …"

"Easy now, kid," Erron said lowly, sensing his growing anxiety. "Don't excite yourself …"

He began to reach out with his hand, but he stopped when Jin shrunk away.

"You," he breathed heavily, rising to a pant. "You killed …"

It was all coming back to him: the plane grounded at the cargo bay … Cassie Cage and Jacqui Briggs walking ahead of him on the tarmac … Takeda walking briskly so that he could catch up to them, making it so that the bowman could quicken his pace … Jin breaking out into an amused smile at his friend's actions …

… a smile that immediately disappeared when the first shot was fired …

 _Cassie crying out, blood pouring forth from her body …_

… his mouth opened to yell her name when the second shot was fired …

 _Jacqui falling face-first onto the platform, her blood seeping out around her …_

… his body turned to the side so that he could warn the Shirai Ryu when three more shots were fired …

 _Takeda's face splattered with scarlet ichor as his eyes took the fourth shot …_

… until he finally turned around to see the face of the assailant, when the final shot was fired …

 _A shock erupting throughout his body as he felt the bullet entering his chest, before it transformed into the most excruciating pain that he had ever felt in his life …_

… and whenever his eyes fluttered open, all he saw was _his_ face staring down at him …

 _The pain he felt then, the pain he felt in-between the waking and fading, and the pain he felt now as he looked into the face of –_

"You," Kung Jin gasped, "killed my team."

Erron said nothing.

"My team … they're _dead_ ," Jin said, his voice rising.

His aching body protested once more as he pushed himself up in the bed. His eyes were darkening like the sky being overcome by storm-clouds. "You murdered my friends. They're all dead …"

Panic laced his every word, and Erron knew that an anxiety attack was slowly but surely taking hold of the monk. To his dismay, he noticed that blood had begun to seep through the thin fabric of the wounded man's bandages, and it was doing so at a fast speed.

 _At this rate, he's gonna bleed himself to death._

"Kid, you need to calm down now," said the gun-slinger as gently as he could, leaning down towards the Earthrealmer. "The less panicky you are, the more – _OOF!_ "

The Shaolin monk's foot connected with Erron's crotch before the cowboy could even register the other man moving his leg from underneath the comforter. He fell to his knees as curses flew past his lips, the pain practically unbearable as it surged through his frame. It very well nearly distracted him from seeing Jin throwing the covers off him and hurriedly swinging his body over the other side of the bed.

The groan that the archer gave as he attempted to get up managed to draw Erron's attention almost instantly – through a pained squint, he could see Jin's body bending forward, wrapping his arms around himself. Indeed, as he did this, Jin became aware that there were bandages covering his bare chest. He saw the ever-growing patch spreading out across the white fabric, sending a copper scent up towards his nose.

But he could not afford to dwell on this for another second.

"Junior," Erron grunted from the other side of the bed.

Jin's head snapped back up. Without looking at the mercenary, he lifted himself off the bed. Trying his best to ignore the pounding beneath his chest, he trudged his way towards the door. The stiffness of his limbs and the intense throbbing slowed his movements, but it did not douse the thought that blared in his mind:

 _Get yourself out of here, Jin._

"Junior," Erron's voice was louder now as he struggled to get up from the floor. "Jin, wait!"

 _Get out_ _ **now.**_

There was a key in the door's key-hole: Jin turned it, unlocking the door. As he pulled the door open, the Shaolin monk deigned to look over his shoulder; he saw Erron placing his hands on the bed to push himself up. Breathing rapidly, Jin turned away and walked out of the room.

"Damn it, kid, wait!" cursed Erron as he managed to get to his feet. He hissed as he lumbered towards the door – balancing himself in the door frame, he peered out to his left and saw that Jin was more than halfway down the corridor. However, his head hung low as he took uneven steps, reaching out towards the wall with his arm every few seconds to steady himself. His laboured pants echoed in the passageway.

 _The gunshot wound's slowing him down. The kid ain't gonna get that far._

 _But he's full of f****** surprises_ , the former Earthrealmer thought, the pain between his legs still lingering something fierce.

Wresting himself away from the door frame, he walked unsteadily after the bowman. "Jin, _stop!_ "

But Jin did not plan on stopping. The Elder Gods knew he wanted to get away from the mercenary as fast as his legs could carry him. He had no idea where he was ( _somewhere in_ _Kotal Kahn's palace?_ ), but he sure as hell knew that he needed to escape.

 _I need to get back to the Special Forces Headquarters. The general has got to know what had happened by now._

 _Cassie's body flying back … Jacqui collapsing … Takeda's blood flying forth …_

He shut his eyes, his hand finding the wall to calm his nerves. His heart was thumping in his throat, so much so that he could feel a metallic taste on his tongue …

"Get back here right now!"

It very well nearly exploded as Erron's voice rung out like a gunshot. With a gasp, and holding a hand to his chest, the blood wetting his palm and fingers, Jin nearly tripped over his own feet as he continued to struggle in his lagged steps. Behind him, he could hear the other man's faltering footsteps reverberating.

"You're gonna die, kid," Erron yelled, "if you don't stop moving!"

But Jin kept moving regardless. He _had_ to get out of here.

He had to –

"Ungh!"

The Shaolin monk nearly fell backwards when he collided hard with goodness knows what. Stumbling a little with another gasp, he looked up and saw a blood-red dot.

No. A blood-red _eye_.

An eye that stared right back down at him.

Before Jin could make any sudden movements, the massive arms of Torr enclosed around his waist. It was not a tight grip, but the pain that he already felt seemed to increase by a ten-fold. A cry issued forth from the back of his throat as the brute tightened his hold, lifting him off the ground and pressing him to his chest.

"Augh!" he yelled, feeling like his life was being squeezed out of him. "Let me go!"

"Torr, put him down!"

Torr's eye flitted over Jin's shoulder as Erron came into sight. Although he looked to be ailing, the former Earthrealmer looked just as determined. He held up his hands in a beseeching manner.

"Torr," he said, "put the monk down."

"Hmph," chirruped a light voice, and Ferra's head appeared next to Torr's. Her auburn eyes were narrowed as she used her partner's shoulders to lift herself higher and look at Jin's anguished face. "Looks to we like Skinny try escape."

She brought her face closer to the Shaolin monk's. "Big Bossy no want him go from here."

"I was getting to that before he, uh, got a fright," Erron said, mustering up a calm tone.

He reached out to touch Torr's forearm. "Now tell Torr to release him so that I can take him back to my room. He's hurt enough as is."

Ferra shook her head.

"We take Skinny back to Bang-bang's room," she declared. "Skinny try escape again, and we no trust you to do job."

Torr gave an affirmative grunt, adding another squeeze for good measure – the bowman gave an unholy groan, his head tipping back in agony. A dizzying sensation was beginning to stir up, making him see spots in his vision.

"Let … me …" he choked, his voice trailing off into a whimper.

"Hey, cut it out," Erron seethed. "Junior's a bleeding mess already. Don't make it any worse for him. Loosen your damn grip."

Ferra giggled.

"Junior no Skinny's name," she cooed. "He no baby."

"Ferra," Erron rumbled, his blue eyes becoming aflame. "Loosen. The. Grip. _Now_."

The girl stared at him; Torr breathed heavily, the edges of his cloth moving in and out. His eye darted from the woozy monk to his gun-slinging comrade and back again.

Finally, Ferra gave a sigh.

"You no fun, Bang-bang," she grumbled. " _Losamak houma_ , Torr."

At once, Torr relaxed his grip. Jin felt his body being relieved of some pressure. Inhaling precious air, he began to squirm in the Outworlder's arms.

"Let me go," he wheezed. "Let me go right now …"

"Shut up, Junior – ugh, _Jin_ ," Erron barked. "You'll hurt yourself more if you carry on like this."

To Ferra/Torr, he said, "Follow me."

And so, carrying the flailing monk, the girl and the brute followed behind Erron – who walked easily now – down the corridor. They reached his bedroom, and, seeing the Outworld cowboy gesture with his head towards the spare bed, Ferra jumped off her partner's back and said, " _Siti af_."

Torr nodded. He marched to the bed and, in a none too gentle manner, dropped the Shaolin monk onto it. Jin yelled for the world to hear as his back hit the mattress, his pain temporarily paralysing his form – all he could do was emit groans and writhe in sheer discomfort. Erron's skin grew cold at the sight, but he inwardly reminded himself that he would not have to restrain the bowman as a result.

 _He can't get up if he tried._

There was a tug on his shirt. Looking down, Erron's eyes met that of Ferra's. Her mouth was set in a pout.

"Big Bossy say we give Bang-bang his shoot-shoots back," she said as she reached up behind her back and removed Erron's guns from her holster.

Her comrade said nothing, quietly taking the guns from her hands. It felt good to have his weapons back; the weight of them pressed into his palms and his fingers caressing the triggers gave him a sense of relief.

 _Another shot or two of whiskey and I'll be the happiest f***** alive._

"You make sure he no go?" asked Ferra, glaring at Erron.

He nodded. "No go."

Ferra nodded as well before barking something to Torr. The brute left Jin's bedside – there was a noticeable scarlet stain on the front of his broad chest – and ambled over to his partner's side; using his left arm as leverage, she climbed onto his back, gripping his shoulders with her hands. With another incomprehensible order, Ferra/Torr stomped out of the room, the brute's heavy footsteps echoing in the corridor.

When they were gone, Erron holstered his guns into the waistband of his pants and went to lock the door. This time, he put the key into his pants' pocket. Then, he turned to the other man. Jin's movements had slowed down, but the agitation and pain were still there as evidenced by his wheezing and the spasmodic rising and falling of his chest. His bandages were just about soaked through, red and damp. His eyes were wide with fear and choler – they widened further as the mercenary slowly approached the bed.

"Stay back," he growled in a strangled tone. He sat up, his head and shoulders pressed against the wall. "Don't you come anywhere near me."

"Kid, I'm _not_ in the mood to play around," Erron warned as he drew nearer, automatically touching the top of his guns.

Jin flinched, shrinking back even further if that was possible. Erron saw this, and his hands dropped to his sides.

"Your wound's acting up some," he said in what he hoped was a low, soothing voice. "I just want to check on it."

"Don't you even think of touching me, scumbag," hissed Jin, a scowl full of hate crossing his fair features. "You'll regret it if you do."

 _Too late for regret._

 _Too late to take everything back …_

Erron sat on the end of the bed; he looked up at Jin, who straight away drew his legs up (the former was wary of them as is). The gun-slinger dug his fingers into the material of his pants.

"Jin," he tried again, "you're bleeding too much. The healer won't be around for another hour or so. If you keep still and not get excited, you won't bleed as much."

"And whose fault is that?" thundered the Shaolin monk, touching his chest, his hand coated in another layer of blood. "Who's responsible for _this_ happening in the first place?"

"Jin, I –"

But Jin cut him off.

" _You_ _ **killed**_ _my team, Black!_ " he shouted, his husky voice reverberating around the room. "You waltzed into Earthrealm and killed them all! And you tried to kill _me_ , too!"

"I had my orders from the Kahn –" started Erron, but Jin interrupted him again.

"Yet you couldn't even finish the job!" he yelled. "You shot me, and you brought me to goddamn Outworld!"

"You were dying. I had to get you medical attention –"

" _But why?!_ "demanded Jin. "Why the hell did you bring me to Outworld?! Why did you shoot me only to turn around and try to save me?! Why didn't you end my life back in Earthrealm when you had the friggin' chance?!"

Here, the monk lowered his voice, his words dripping with venom. His immaculate face contorted into an expression of absolute hatred.

"You tried to kill me," he uttered darkly. "Why didn't you leave me to die …?"

 _Cassie's once lively eyes, now dulled … Jacqui's arm muscles rippling, now stilled … Takeda's smile, now gone …_

A lump appeared in Jin's throat. His heart beat against the wall of his chest, sending trickles of blood into the creases of his bandages.

 _Lives living, now ended by bullets …_

Feeling the pin-prick of tears in the corners of his eyes, Jin stared hard at Erron,

"Why didn't you kill me?" he whispered.

Silence.

The gun-slinger pursed his lips, considering the other man's question.

Jin continued staring, waiting for the answer.

Hoping that the tears would not fall …

Then, Erron looked straight into Jin's eyes, not blinking as he responded:

"God alone knows."

The Shaolin monk gaped at him. "What?"

Erron repeated himself. "God alone knows."

Jin could not believe what he was hearing. A few seconds later, anger once again reared its ugly head as he glared at the man.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, _God alone knows_?" he snarled. "That doesn't tell me a damn thing about why you didn't kill me! I need a proper reason, Black, do you understand?"

"What I need _you_ to understand," stated Erron steadily yet firmly, "is that I don't know why I didn't kill you."

The bowman was silenced.

"I don't know why," the former Earthrealmer said again, more to himself than the kid. "I don't know why I didn't kill you … I don't know …"

Jin was still silent. He took in the details of the mercenary's form. Never had he seen him without his mask, his eye black that shaded the lids of his blue orbs, the bandolier-strapped hat, the countless other bandoliers strapped onto other parts of his body, his Western-cum-gun-slinging gear and attire …

 _Never had he seen him so … human._

This man, with his simple shirt and pants … his tousled blonde hair … his fine-looking features … his naked blue eyes, large and thoughtful …

 _A human being._

 _No._

 _An Earthrealm traitor._

 _A_ _ **killer**_ _._

"I don't believe you," Jin muttered, anger crossing his features once more. "You kept me alive for some reason. My team …"

He exhaled a shaky breath; his eyes began to burn with salt.

"My _friends_ ," he said softly, "are all gone because of you. I'm still alive because of you."

He barked out a harsh laugh. "But _you_? You don't know why? How am I supposed to believe such a weak excuse?"

Erron had a feeling that the Shaolin monk would react this way. Much like Kotal Kahn had similarly reacted earlier in the throne room, the kid was in disbelief about his actions. And for the life of him, even the Outworld cowboy could not understand why he had done what he did that had brought them to this point in time.

 _I had him on the ground … on the edge of death … my revolver aiming for his forehead …_

 _I wanted him dead._

 _But I never pulled the trigger because …_

 _Because …_

Erron moved up on the bed. Jin kept still, the back of his body aching from the hardness of the wall. A dribble of blood ran down his stomach.

"Jin, I want you to listen to me nicely now," the mercenary spoke gravely. "I don't know why I didn't kill you. That's the only reason I can give you at this time. But I'm telling you now, if you try to run away from the palace or make contact with Earthrealm, you will die. The emperor will have no qualms about having you killed."

Jin opened his mouth, but then he shut it again.

The bass register of the other man somehow managed to drop lower.

"But if you stay here in this room," he continued, "if you stay by my side at all times, I guarantee that you will remain safe. Reptile, Ermac, Ferra/Torr, the emperor himself … I won't let them lay a finger on you."

If it had been another person, maybe Jin would have been soothed by the words he was hearing.

But he could not be soothed – he _would_ not.

 _Clean-cut and gentle in appearance, but this man's the devil through and through._

Jin shook his head.

"You're full of s***," he responded heatedly. "You think I'll let you so-called protect me from Kotal Kahn by keeping me imprisoned here against my will? How do I know that you won't slash my throat when I'm not looking, huh? Or that you'll let your buddies finish what you started?"

"Kid, if that was my intention all along, you wouldn't be alive right now," Erron replied evenly, watching another sliver of blood run down the monk's stomach. "Torr would have killed you by now if I hadn't been there."

" _None_ of this would have happened if you hadn't been in Earthrealm," Jin retorted.

He followed Erron's gaze and saw the bloody lines painted on his stomach. Normally he was self-conscious about letting other people see too much of his bare skin … and too much of his emotions, as a matter of fact. It had been that way ever since he was a child.

 _When I was old enough to realise how some people don't give a damn …_

The bowman smeared the lines with his fingers, trailing the digits across his midriff. Five streaks, like slashes from a gauntlet, decorated the area. Erron watched him, his mouth set in a firm line. It remained so as Jin looked up at him, holding up a stained hand.

"If you could do something like this to me, how do you expect me to believe that you can help me?" he murmured.

Erron glanced at the hand before turning his attention back to Jin. Those eyes of his were swirling with a variety of emotions, layered with a sheet of tears that threatened to fall. It was a far cry from the way they burned at the Kove and at the S-F cargo bay. It was most certainly a far cry from when the two men first met at the market-place, when the Asian man had been full of confidence and persuasion, his eyes brimming with liveliness.

 _His blood's on_ your _hands, Black._

 _You broke him._

 _The only thing you can do is try to fix him …_

"Jin, all I can ask you to do," answered Erron Black, "is to have faith in me."

Kung Jin ogled him. He lips parted out of confusion.

"Have faith in you?" he repeated, lowering his hand. "What kind of f –"

"If you wanna survive, then that's what you'll have to damn well do," Erron cut him off sternly. "That's the only way you're gonna avoid going six feet under."

He held out his hand, the movement slow and steady so that the monk would not get startled. The latter watched the movement very closely.

"Faith is a funny word, Junior," Erron murmured. "Not a word that I normally use, but right now it's all you got."

Jin regarded the hand in front of him – long, lean and slightly calloused fingers outstretched. They had been warm against his shoulder.

But they had been cold when they were wrapped around the revolver …

The Shaolin monk looked up from the hand to glare at its owner once more, trying his damndest to prevent his tears from flowing.

"After you killed my friends … when you tried to kill me … you seriously expect me to just dump my trust in your lap, for God's sake?" he spat.

Erron sighed as he withdrew his hand. He touched the scars on his left arm, tracing the tally marks. One, two, three, four strokes and then the fifth stroke cut across them.

 _One, two, three …_

… _and four to go._

" _You will be greater than all the others", she used to read to me …_

"I don't expect you to trust me right away," he replied at last.

He paused.

"And certainly not for the sake of God."

* * *

 **A/N** : _Losamak houma_ = "Loosen hold"; _Siti af_ = "Put down."

 **Guest** \- Ja no, I feel bad for both of them, too, but more for Jin at this moment just because of what's going on in this chapter - the poor dear is going through too much trauma right now. Although you gotta feel for Erron because his mother did act a bit nasty to him. Sorry for the decade-late update, and thank you for the compliment! ^-^

 **NaruHinaLuvr13** \- * _Hugs_ * Thank you, sweets, you say the nicest things. :D I'm sorry that I'm only replying to you now after all this time. Hope you're well!

 **Hijanka** \- Hee hee, it took me a while to get that chapter up, and it took even longer for this one to appear. ^-^;; But I'm glad that you're enjoying the story so far. If I can motivate myself properly and have more time, I'd be able to put out more chapters. Watch this space. ;)

I'm sorry for the late updates, this year is still being a monster and a half. And I know I said the third chapter for _Past The Point Of No Return_ was going to come out a long time ago, but I kept putting off the writing - this week I'm actually gonna do some sitting down and write for it. Hope this chapter made up for the wait - as well Jin kicking Erron in the ol' fruit and nuts.

*~AI07~* :)


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